In a Name
by Lightningwolf325
Summary: After he was taken from the Dursleys at age 4, Harry Potter ceased to exist. In his place is Kaden, raised by the cruel Morgana Magic Testing Facility. When Fawkes brings his Hogwarts letter and he escapes, how will the world handle the changed savior?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor do I own anything in **bold**.  
><strong>Other<strong>: Please review, no flames.

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><p><em>Beaten. Bruised.<em>

"No…"

_Four years old…too young…_

"Stop…"

_He'll die anyway…might as well give him a chance…_

"Please…"

_Fine._

He thrashed in the stark white bed, arms bouncing off of the cushioning charms on the metal railings.

"_What is your name?"_

"_Harry Potter, sir."_

"No! Stop!"

"_No more."_

_Pain._

He was still muttering, eyes closed tightly. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry!"

_Kaden_

"_Potter, sir?"_

_SMACK_

"_No family, no family name. Even you should understand that—simple rules for a simple boy."_

"NO!"

Kaden's eyes flew open as he wrenched himself from the nightmare. He lay still, trying to catch his breath.

It was a nightly ritual for him—caught in a nightmare about his jaded past, forced to wake himself up before _they_ heard. Because if they heard, he would be put in restraints again so that he wouldn't put so much wear on the cushioning charms placed on the metal so he couldn't hurt himself. Not that he wanted to, but it was standard—many did.

He hated this place.

And they hated him.

They kept him here. He was a lab rat, stuck in an impossible, endless maze, sent to find a nonexistent piece of cheese. He was their plaything—they could do anything to him, and no one would ever find out because he didn't exist. Kaden didn't exist. The only thing he could hope was that somehow, to someone, Harry Potter did.

But he wasn't _really_ Harry Potter. Not anymore. They had done far too much to him. So really, whoever found him would be quite disappointed—they wouldn't be finding Harry Potter. But Kaden would be free.

He would be free because anyone humane enough to go looking for a boy who had disappeared nearly seven years previous couldn't possibly leave him with them. No matter how damaged he was, he was still human.

Unlike _them._

Soon the cycle would start all over again—brought out for a meager breakfast before testing began. But, for fear of punishment, he wouldn't resist. He would run as they asked him, jump as they told him, and submit as they ordered him. His already out-of-control magic would be invaded again.

But _they_ didn't care.

They just cared about their research. And he, a major part of their research, was also a danger to it. He was too unstable now—he would have to be disposed of.

Kaden had lasted far longer than any other test subject in the _Morgana Magic Testing Facility_. Most were worn out after two years at most, some of the stronger ones lasting three or even four. Kaden, on the other hand, was nearing his seventh year at MMTF, and his core was an unpredictable storm due to all of the tests it had endured—and the changes were not altogether invisible.

His once emerald eyes had been stained a nearly ethereal blue—identical to the raging sea of magic that seeped through his very veins. There was a shock of silver in a lock of his jet black hair that hung over one sapphire orb. That orb was marred by the single scar that began above and finished below it, not causing any visible damage to the eye itself. In reality his unleashed magic had healed it, bringing a hypersensitivity that had forced him to grow his hair out over it for fear of light-induced blindness.

The only thing that tied him to the young Harry Potter who had once stood in his place was the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He knew it meant something—they had never liked it very much, and had even tried to get rid of it at one point, resulting in the injury to his left eye—but no matter what he tried he couldn't figure out what mattered so much about it. Sure, it had a peculiar shape to it, but apart from that he could find nothing special.

And then the tapping started.

Kaden carefully sat up, casting a quick glance around the bleached room. Nothing was there. Until something was.

In a burst of flame, a bird appeared in the room. Kaden pushed the hair from his eye in order to see its detail in the dark—it had brilliant red and gold plumage and (if he wasn't imagining it) a wise twinkle in its black eyes.

He realized with a start that the phoenix must have been tapping on the door to his cell—or bedroom, as they called it. It would only be a matter of time before they came to see what was causing the disturbance; he needed to act fast.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered uncertainly, voice cracking. The only time he spoke was during his nightmares, and to answer the odd question during tests. Suffice it to say, he was rather unused to talking. The phoenix trilled, the beautiful sound raising a nearly foreign hope in the boy's chest. It flew to his bed, sticking out its leg in invitation. There was a letter, addressed in green ink. He carefully untied it.

_Harry Potter_

_(Kaden)_

_Morgana Magic Testing Facility_

_Room 520_

His heart skipped a beat. It was a letter. _To him! _Or, rather, to Harry Potter. Though it did have his name on it—the name he was used to, the name that he had, in essence, become. With shaky hands he opened it.

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**_

_**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**_

_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**_

_**Dear Mr. Potter,**_

_** We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**_

_** Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.**_

_**Yours sincerely,**_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

Kaden couldn't believe it! He knew about magic, naturally—the researchers at MMTF had to tell him at least a little in order for their tests to be accurate. He had heard rumors about magic schools as well, that you could go and learn to control it, but he wasn't sure what to believe. Surely, if there actually were a magical government, they would try to stop the things that happened at MMTF? But he had heard that the research was secret—horror stories of it being passed off as a training programme so that parents would willingly send their children with above-average power levels, signing a contract that transferred complete guardianship to the Facility in fine print, were prevalent among some of the old-timers. And Kaden, being the one who had been there the longest, had heard them all.

Heart still racing in anticipation and apprehension, he pulled out another piece of parchment—the shopping list.

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**_

**Uniform**

_**First-year students will require:**_

_**Three sets of plain work robes (black)**_

_**One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear**_

_**One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)**_

_**One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)**_

_**Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags**_

**Set Books**

_**All students should have a copy of each of the following:**_

** The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) **_**by Miranda Goshawk**_

** A History of Magic **_**by Bathilda Bagshot**_

** Magical Theory **_**by Adalbert Waffling**_

** A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration **_**by Emeric Switch**_

** One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi **_**by Phyllida Spore**_

** Magical Drafts and Potions **_**by Arsenius Jigger**_

** Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them **_**by Newt Scamander**_

** Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection **_**by Quentin Trimble**_

**Other Equipment**

_**1 wand**_

_** 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)**_

_** 1 set glass or crystal phials**_

_** 1 telescope**_

_** 1 set brass scales**_

_**Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad**_

_**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**_

Kaden's stomach dropped; even if he _could_ escape, how would he get all of this? He didn't know anything about the magical world, despite having previous magical "training". Besides, whenever he tried to use a wand for the tests they never worked for him—at best nothing would happen, at worst something would end up exploding. Doubt continued to worm its way around his mind.

And how would he react to all the people? He had never gone to an actual school before, and tended to keep to himself even within the Facility. Not to mention that these people expected him to be Harry Potter—whatever that would mean—and he highly doubted that he would even be able to respond to the name, much less be the person. He had gone by Kaden for nearly seven years, and he wasn't about to suddenly switch names.

Then there was the matter of escaping. It was said to be impossible—and decades of failed attempts backed that up. Though…perhaps the phoenix could—

The bird gently pecked at his hand, pulling him out of his frantic thoughts. It looked at him understandingly—no, he had to be going crazy. There was no way a _bird,_ no matter how magical, could know what he was going through. Though, it _did_ seem rather amused as his thoughts went off on a tangent…

He shook his head, trying to get back on track. The fact remained that there was _no way_ that he would be able to survive going to a school, even if he did manage to escape. But still, there _was_ the minor detail of there being an even smaller chance of him living past his eleventh birthday—whenever that was—if he stayed where he was. That decided it.

"Can you get me out of here?" he asked hoarsely, clumsily shaping his lips and tongue to form the words. The phoenix trilled in a very _It's about time you asked_ way before flying up and hovering with its tail feathers dangling in front of Kaden's face. Another impression made its way into his head.

_Well?_ An image of him grabbing the feathers glided in front of his eyes. Dazed by the intrusion he hastily reached out and held on, thrown when gentle flames engulfed him.

And that one simple decision changed his life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own Harry Potter.  
><strong>Other<strong>: So, I know, two chapters at once. But I'm sick and bored and I can't _rest_ rest so I wrote two. I was part of the way through the third chapter before I decided to upload the first. And this one. But whatever. And I'm also not claiming that my French is anywhere near correct (even though it's like, two or three words, and one of them's a curse word). But French is in "_italics". _You'll know it when you see it. Please review, and don't flame.

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><p>Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office at Hogwarts, having a meeting. It was far more pleasant than most of his meetings went—it had nothing to do with the Ministry, or the ICW, or any other political group. Rather, he was taking tea with Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. They were old friends—in more than one sense. And while the topic they were discussing might not have been the most delightful, the company more than made up for it. A knock sounded at his door.<p>

"Enter," he allowed, sipping at his tea. "Ah, Minerva! If it is school business, could it perhaps wait until later? I have company—"

"My apologies, Albus, but this is important," she interrupted, causing him to sit up at once. It wasn't often that his deputy would address him like this, and whenever she did it was worth listening to. "Nicolas, Perenelle," she greeted the other occupants of the office. The Flamels smiled warmly.

"Minerva, a pleasure," Nicolas said, a faint trace of French in his accent.

"It has been far too long," Perenelle agreed, accent mirroring her husband's.

"It has been," Minerva said. "Perhaps you can come by my quarters later and catch up."

"We would be delighted," Nicolas told her.

"What seems to be the problem, Minerva?" Albus asked, a slight crease in his brow. It was one of the few times he couldn't read the Transfiguration Mistress—her behavior was off, as was her whole demeanor. Quite worrying, especially for someone who knew her as well as he did.

"Have you seen Fawkes lately?" she asked him. He could tell that the question held much more weight than she was letting on, and that confused him. No, he hadn't seen his familiar, but that didn't put the school in any danger. Especially with the state of things—Tom had been too weak to stir up any trouble, and while he wasn't entirely sure where the fallen dark lord was he was quite sure that there weren't any immediate threats. Not to mention that he had been in the process of taking precautions against the rise of said dark lord when Minerva had come in…

"No," he replied, frown deepening. "Should I be concerned?"

"Only if you find it troubling that he came into my office, took one of the acceptance letters early this morning, disappeared, and hasn't been seen since," she retorted. Now Nicolas and Perenelle were frowning as well.

"Which letter?" Nicolas asked. That was what Albus wanted to know as well—who would be so important or out-of-reach that his phoenix had felt the need to take their letter? The gears in his mind were turning. Why…?

He was surprised when Minerva walked over and fell ungracefully into one of his chairs. That in and of itself was _extremely_ out of character for the proper witch. With concern he noted that she had dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her eyes as though suffering from an exhaustion- or stress-induced headache.

"Harry Potter," she muttered. The shock in the room was tangible—Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, who had disappeared from his relatives' house when he was _four years old_, was alive? Where was he? Would Fawkes be able to get him? Was he safe? Healthy? _Happy?_ The questions whirled around in Albus' head; the deep-seated guilt that he had experienced after interrogating the Dursleys about their nephew's disappearance had never truly gone away. He was still constantly plagued by the images of abuse he had pulled from their minds. But the boy was _alive?_

"You're sure?" The question escaped his aged lips, barely a whisper though it resonated around in the vacuous silence.

"Yes," the witch replied, the sheer simplicity of the single word so compact and substantial that Albus would have been knocked off his feet had he been standing. It seemed as though the Flamels felt the same. Albus had called them in shortly after interrogating the Dursleys to see if there was anything they could do to help find the boy. They had thrown themselves into the affair, and became quite attached to the child they believed they would never meet.

"_Merde," _Nicolas muttered, only to be wacked on the arm by his wife who, despite her protests, looked as though she agreed whole-heartedly with his sentiments.

"_Nicola!"_ she hissed. "Language!" He, at least, had the decency to look abashed. Then the issue seemed to catch up with her. "_Impossible," _she breathed. He nodded in agreement. "How can this be?"

"I don't know," Albus pinched his nose. "Did you happen to see the address, Minerva?" She shook her head in the negative.

"If I had you would have known sooner than this, Albus," she reminded him. "I just checked the Book after Fawkes took the letter to see which one had been sent out. I hadn't even known Harry's name was still on the list."

They had been unable to check after the disappearance due to certain enchantments placed on the Book of Names—the book that held the names of all of the students who could attend Hogwarts—that prevented them from looking past the class they were accepting that year. Originally they had been put there so that pureblood supremacists couldn't go after muggleborns, but after Harry's vanishing act it had proven to be more of a hindrance than a help. In the time that it had taken to reach the year of Harry's acceptance, they had lost all hope of ever finding the boy alive.

"Then all we can hope is that Fawkes will be able to reach him," Albus said grimly.

"There is one more thing," Minerva admitted. "In the Book, there was a name in parenthesis next to Harry Potter." The gears in Albus' head started turning again.

"And what would that be?" he asked.

"Kaden. No last name, just…Kaden. What does it mean?"

"I don't know. Nicolas? Perenelle?" He turned to his mentors.

"No idea, Albus," Nicolas said wearily. "Only the boy will be able to tell us that."

"So we wait," Perenelle finished firmly. "And pray that he is well."

But, it turned out, they didn't have to wait long at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I _still_ don't own Harry Potter.  
><strong>Other<strong>: Yeah, kinda short but it's multiple chapters in one day and this was a convenient cut-off for this chapter. Please review, no flames.

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><p>In a burst of flames the phoenix appeared, Kaden in tow. Disoriented the sudden change he pitched forward, stumbling into a bookshelf. He looked up and was surprised to find himself in a circular room, occupied not only by many curious instruments and books, but four adults who were staring at him openly. He immediately straightened, backing up against the wall. The phoenix landed on his shoulder, offering potential protection along with the comforting weight.<p>

An elderly man with long white hair and a matching beard rose from his seat, intently eyeing Kaden as though he had never seen anything like him before. Though, Kaden pondered, it was quite possible that he hadn't—he wasn't entirely sure what was considered normal, even in the wizarding world.

Seated around the man and also staring at him as though he were some sort of ghost was another older man with short, silver hair, an elderly woman with fair hair that was riddled with silver streaks, and another woman with black hair tied up into a neat bun. Kaden looked around at all of them, uncomfortable.

Unsure of how to address the strangers whose meeting he seemed to have interrupted by flashing in with a magical bird, he did the only logical thing—turn to the phoenix.

"Where exactly did you take me?" he hissed to the weight on his shoulder, much to the amusement of said bird. A trill that could have been laughter came from its beak.

_Exactly where you wanted to go, youngling,_ came the impression in his mind.

"And where would that be?" he asked quietly, still conscious of the eyes trained on him and his companion.

_Hogwarts, of course!_

"Of course," he replied dryly. The man with the beard coughed.

"I see you have become acquainted with my familiar, young man," he said gently, though Kaden started all the same. "I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What is your name, child?"

Kaden froze, eyeing the man warily. Dumbledore seemed to notice his discomfort and smiled reassuringly, though that only put the boy even more on edge. He didn't know how to respond to someone being nice—he couldn't remember a single instance of it in his entire life. He was prompted into response by the phoenix pecking him on the head.

_Answer, fledgling,_ it scolded.

"K-Kaden, s-sir," he replied, stumbling over the words. He noticed the widening of the foreign group's eyes as he spoke. They couldn't know about him, could they? He didn't exist—that's what he had always been told at the Facility.

"So this is where you were off to, my friend," the man muttered. Judging by the cheeky gleam in the bird's eye, Kaden figured that it was giving the man an answer. It seemed he was right when Dumbledore grinned slightly and shook his head. "Incorrigible as always, Fawkes."

Kaden stiffened further when the other man brought out his wand. The researchers at the Facility sometimes used magic on the test subjects as a punishment, or as…_encouragement_ to do well. He didn't have much good experience with them. However, the man didn't even point the wand in his direction—he simply waved it, causing a comfortable looking chair to appear with the others.

"Perhaps you would like to sit down?" he invited quietly, nonthreatening. Kaden noted that his accent was slightly different than Dumbledore's—French, if he wasn't mistaken.

_Go on, fledgling. They won't hurt you, _the phoenix—Fawkes, he recalled Dumbledore saying—prodded.

He numbly stepped forward, sinking onto the edge of the seat as though preparing to bolt at any second. He carefully looked around the room, searching for any escape routes.

Albus watched the boy in shock. The child—Kaden—had appeared in his office with Fawkes, and apparently could communicate with the phoenix. That in itself said a lot about the boy.

He wasn't anything Albus had been expecting. His one visible eye—the right—was an almost unreal sapphire blue, rather than the telltale emerald that he had been expecting, and his sable hair was grown out over the other. A single lock in the fringe that hung over that left eye was silver. His features were somewhat angular, and he wasn't wearing glasses. Curiously, magic seemed to leak from his very pores, signifying an unstable core that was past the power level for what it should be for a child his age.

What was truly worrying, apart from his magic, was the way he carried himself. He looked as though he expected to be attacked at any moment. When he spoke it sounded like he wasn't used to partaking in intelligent conversation with fellow human beings—and he was obviously afraid when Nicolas had taken out his wand.

What had happened to this boy?

Kaden perched on the edge of the chair, only the slightly comforting weight of Fawkes the phoenix keeping him from rising.

_Relax,_ the bird told him soothingly. _They will help you._

"So, Kaden," Dumbledore sat back down. "Perhaps I should begin by introducing my companions, hmm? This is Nicolas Flamel," he gestured to the man who had conjured the chair, "and his wife Perenelle." The woman with the streaked silver hair smiled warmly, comfortingly, almost. "And this is Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration teacher, and head of Gryffindor House here at Hogwarts." The woman with the bun, who appeared to be in her seventies, gave him a smile that he believed was rather rare, coming from her. He got an air of sternness off of her, as though she were someone trustworthy that he wouldn't want to cross. There was another, slightly awkward, silence.

It seemed that Dumbledore was conversing with his bird again.

"Now, I take it that you aren't one to, as they say, 'beat around the bush'," Dumbledore said lightly. "So, shall I go straight to the point?"

After a moment Kaden realized that he was waiting on a response and so said "Yes, sir."

"Fabulous. So, would you happen to know a Harry Potter?" he asked, eyes twinkling. Kaden's heart sped up.

"That…used to be my name, sir," he admitted quietly, after a bit of prompting from Fawkes.

"Used to be?" McGonagall asked quietly. At first she had been completely thrown by his appearance, but she was slowly coming to recognize the similarities to his parents—the handsome features, the naturally untidy hair, and the almond shape of the eyes _screamed_ Lily and James. But what of the eye colour? She had seen him as a baby, and hadn't his eyes been his mother's green?

"Before I was taken," he said, shifting uncomfortably. He was again looking for a way out.

"Taken by whom?" Dumbledore asked, though not unkindly. Kaden mumbled something unintelligible. "Pardon?"

"I'm tired," Kaden tried desperately. It _was_ true. He wasn't used to so much productive human interaction. "Could we—" He was cut off by a sharp peck to the head. _Bloody bird's gonna cause me brain damage,_ he thought angrily.

_Tell him,_ Fawkes ordered. The boy sighed.

"Morgana Magic Testing Facility," he said quickly, hoping that they would just let it go. Why were they so interested, anyway? And what was with this phoenix? Weren't they supposed to be peaceful creatures?

"Testing facility?" Nicolas asked, fire in his eyes. Kaden would have run if it weren't for Fawkes' hold on his shoulder. The bird could rip his arm off if it wanted to! "He needs to see Madam Pomfrey. Immediately."

"Wait, what?" he asked, eyes widening. "No! Who's Madam Pomfrey?"

"She's the mediwitch here at Hogwarts," Perenelle explained gently.

"No way!" He was on his feet in an instant, back to where he and Fawkes had appeared. The phoenix was trilling indignantly. "I'm not going to a hospital!"

"It's just the school infirmary—"

"No!"

Hospitals and infirmaries had to be things that didn't change from the world of MMTF to the real one. They would always be impossibly clean and white, smelling sickeningly sterile. He hated them. And after the number of times he had been tied down in one at the Facility, he had good reason. Were he forced into one after the stress he had so recently experienced, he would have a panic attack—and the weak feeling that came with one he couldn't bear. He could feel his core expanding inside him…

"Harry, please don't make me stun you," Dumbledore begged, raising his wand threateningly. And that was enough to make him snap.

The raging magic, shook loose from his core by the cruel tests done to him, rose to the surface. He was surrounded by a blue glow that echoed his eyes, which seemed to glow even brighter than the errant magic.

"Albus, wait—" But the spell was already coming off the wand.

The red of the stunner was absorbed into the sea of deadly blue as his body processed the foreign magic and sent it crashing out the window. Fawkes took flight from his place on the boy's shoulder, landing instead on Dumbledore's outstretched wand arm and digging his talons into it.

_Fledgling, calm down! _he trilled. A gentle melody flowed from his beak and Kaden looked up, trying desperately to reign in his magic. Nicolas stepped forward slowly.

"It's alright," he said soothingly, raising his hands to show that he didn't have his wand and he meant no harm. "Focus."

Kaden took a deep breath as Nicolas laid his hands on his shoulders. He hated these attacks—when he lost control of his magic. Just one of the many reasons he resented the Facility, for making his core grow and move at an unnatural rate. He could lose control at any time, so he kept his emotions in tight check—but sometimes it just wasn't enough.

"That's right, deep breaths," Nicolas ordered. "Don't force the magic. Invite it back."

He did as the older man instructed, feeling the volatile energy slowly ebb back into his body. The sudden end of the rush caused him to collapse—but unlike all of the similar times in the Facility, someone caught him. Nicolas carefully helped him back to his chair.

"Call Poppy," he ordered Albus. Dumbledore immediately obeyed, slapping himself over the stupidity of his impulsive move. He had _known_ that there was something wrong with the boy's magic. Why hadn't he thought before he acted?

_You were in shock,_ his familiar trilled in his mind. _You weren't expecting Kaden to be alive so you acted without thinking. A natural mistake._

_And one that had the potential to become deadly,_ he grimly pointed out. _And what of the prophecy? Harry Potter was supposed to fulfill it, but now Kaden is the only one who fits the requirements. Can a boy with such an unstable core _really_ defeat Tom?_

_They are the same boy, _Fawkes reminded him. _Something the both of you seem to be forgetting. Just don't force him to become something that he isn't. _With that the phoenix took off, flying back to the child who was in desperate need of calming.


End file.
